Second Friday in Lent

“Seek the LORD and his strength;
     seek his presence continually.” Psalm 105:4

it’s a mystery, God.
we can be drawn into
an online argument about
something we know little about
started by someone we don’t know,
but we’re going to jump in
feet first, all in—
but take the time for a breath,
to listen carefully to another,
practice that more needed now
than ever before peacemaking?
it’s a mystery, God.
even though
you’ve warned us time and again,
we keep turning down
Grudge Alley, hoping the bullies
will jump out and pummel us,
so we have an excuse to keep returning—
but stand there trying
to understand Jesus’ words,
though failing to realize that
forgiveness is not a math equation?
it’s a mystery, Lord,
how, where, why to seek you
but you have given us the clues
of grace, love, peace, justice
and so much more to solve it.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Thursday in Lent

“Do not cast me off, do not forsake me,
     O God of my salvation!” Psalm 27:9c

when our cruelty bruises your mornings,
when creation sighs under our abuse,
when fear turns neighbors into strangers,
do not toss us aside,
God, whom we weary.
when we become more skilled
at building detention centers
faster than warming shelters,
as we so casually mistake
noise for today’s truth,
don’t give up on us—
but keep walking beside
the weary in hospital corridors,
listening to mothers in shelters,
sitting Shiva for dreams of justice
which die at the hands of indifference.
teach us to listen once again
not just with our ears, but hearts—
for the cry of the forgotten,
the persistence of peacemakers,
the songs of hope you plant
deep in the souls of little children.
as even our wilderness seems
to have become more barren,
gather us up—
our ashes as well as our anger,
our faults as well as our faith,
to show us the way into
the bright light of your love.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Wednesday in Lent

“A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, "If you choose, you can make me clean." Mark 1:40

it is a hope as old as dirt—
‘if you choose, you can make me clean.’
so, what will it be—
that careful distance allowing us
that safe place from the
those folks who make us uncomfortable
or a risky touch bringing healing
to a person standing in the dust
of brokenness?
will we keep silence which gives
injustice just the breath it needs
or dare we step bravely into
the challenges of our days?
should we keep those habits
who do nothing more than
numb us into insensitivity
or we kneel down, listen closely,
offering mercy to the forgotten?
as we walk the edges of ordinary days,
our hands cupping fear,
cramming worries into our pockets,
may we realize that love
can still reach out in these
confusing, terrifying, overwhelming
moments and perhaps
our small choice will become
that simple holy touch
that changes everything.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

First Tuesday in Lent

“Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” 1 Corinthians 1:20

when ash is drifting down on us,
and the bitter wind carries away
all our well-memorized answers,
do we need the smartest person
in the room,
or the one whose pain
is etched on their face?
when our hearts have crumpled,
every argument tossed aside,
with only a deep ache remaining,
do we need a summa cum laude
or the person who has had
a hope transplant done by the Spirit?
when we are made speechless
as we stand at the edge of the Skull,
truth splintering into pick-up sticks,
do we need a by-God spellbinder
or a little child with simple words?
like bread torn apart by unseen hands,
like light pouring into those
cracks we never notice,
gather up our knowing, God,
and unmake it by your grace—
peeling away that brilliance
blinding us to justice,
unraveling those Gordian knots
made of anger and arrogance,
turning our self-righteous piety
into fools gold with no value—
so that in our Lenten wilderness,
we might realize you are not
as dumb as we think you are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

First Monday in Lent

“The LORD will keep
     your going out and your coming in
     from this time on and for evermore.” Psalm 121:8

whether on the open road
or negotiating a narrow path,
you trace our footsteps,
Compassionate God,
from sunrise to sunset,
cradling our comings and goings
in hands covered in dust and dawn.
we can’t help but wander
chasing after noise, jogging with fear,
hoping to find illusions of power,
while you watch from the edges of life,
that quiet observer when we forget
how you hold us in your arms.
sometimes our doubts are like
pebbles in our shoes as we walk
through this Lenten wilderness,
yet you stay by our side, slowly,
faithfully, as if each step was a prayer
when we dare to leave the familiar
you are waiting in what scares us.
and when we limp back home,
you are sitting by the window with a lamp
to keep us honest when we go out,
have mercy on us when we come in,
guard all those small journeys—
turning toward forgiveness,
walking away from cruelty,
taking the long journey to grace.
from the very first breath you gifted us
to the final one we will give back to you,
be that gentle rhythm under our feet,
that home we never leave.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

First Sunday in Lent

“Happy are those whose strength is in you,
   in whose heart are the highways to Zion.” Psalm 84:5

society rushes by,
distractions bring paths to a standstill,
whispers of hope are drowned
by the noise of every moment,
so blessed are the weary feet
of pilgrims walking through Lent.
for in the companionship of others
we find strength for this journey,
hope echoes in our hearts
with every step we take.
for we are not just marching
to an empty tomb in a garden,
but through that slow realization
of the presence of God’s grace
in every pothole of our lives.
we might miss the quiet joys
of this silent season of wandering
as we focus on frenzied posts,
but in the simple act of pausing
in the spiritual discipline of discovering
the gifts in the unnoticed corners,
but if we walk with faithful caution
in the light of the promise
that in our mortality, even
as we trail Jesus down those
dusty roads leading to death—
we are blessed.
for this is not a sprint to win
some sort of medal,
but that slow, tender pilgrimage
to the heart of God.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

First Saturday in Lent

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

soul-weary,
hearts battered by news,
shoes covered with debris of cruelty,
hope so thin we have trouble breathing—
no wonder we whisper,
we are not enough
and we are not . . . by ourselves.
but then, slipping into our fatigue
like light through the closed
slats of window shutters,
comes a quiet resolve—
not loud, nor boastful,
just persistent as grace.
it is Jesus
that troublemaker telling stories
of people standing together,
that friend who does not leave us
crumpled in the rubble of doubts—
but never stops nudging us
to keep crafting justice, just
one small act of fairness at a time
to always choose compassion
no matter how attractive snark becomes,
to wrap others in the bands of grace,
just as we are swaddled in it,
to dare never give up hope
because
resurrection
is planted in the garden of weakness.
perhaps we are not enough
as the cosmic powers tell us—
but we are not alone
and companion by companion,
pilgrim by pilgrim
witness by witness,
we become that doorway
through which the strength
of love steps into the world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman